Ashes From a Shattered Moon
by OneTiredSloth
Summary: Time is convoluted in the land of Lothric. One undead can experience the same as another and never cross paths. Forever brought back to life, an undead can always be brought to a place they would never expect. A former Lothric Knight is brought back to life after he is slaughtered by his own, and tries to keep his sanity afloat after he wakes up in a new world. *RATED T FOR GORE*
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, all. My name is OneTiredSloth, and this is my second fanfiction! Sort of, if that makes sense. I haven't finished my other RWBY fanfiction, and I was looking for some sort of variety, and as I was playing some Dark Souls 3, I thought why not? I have noticed a lot of Dark Souls/Rwby crossovers that I really enjoyed, but none of them ever finished. So here we go! I hope you enjoy! I'm not sure how often I will update this, as I'm not really on a schedule. Perhaps if this picks up speed I'll update on a more regular basis. But anyways, Enjoy! Again!**

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The pain one endures upon death always varies from person to person. A swift arrow to the heart or a slow, agonizing infected knife wound are common dangers in Lothric. Not so often inside the great wall, however, though the hired assassin or clumsy, spotted thief can always stop you in your path. Death is a very real danger to all, so when you wake up from your death, there are obvious reasons the populous would think this as taboo. Brador was a young boy who trained sense the day he was born to join Prince Lothric's trusted knights. He was to be inducted today, and as part of the ritual, one must slay a Capra Demon who had surfaced inside the Smouldering Lake, just below the Carthus Catacombs. It was a sacred place, though High Lord Wolnir always granted access to Lothric's Knights, both as a sign of trust, and because the demons were beginning to cause problems for everyone. But not everyone wants to see success in the youngsters. Some envy there quickness to rise in the ranks, others wanting that rank for themselves. As the small troop walked throughout the Smouldering Lake, a sense of betraying was fuming. Just as Brador's blade left the horned demon, a blade of the same status entered him. With the sound of metal rubbing against metal, Brador was allowed to turn around as he felt the blade was removed from his person. The smug look on his attackers face was all he could register. The deed was done. They'd leave him to die. And die he did. Brador removed his helmet before the last sustainable amount of crimson life leaked from his limp carcass, his face contorted into a mess of anger and betrayal.

This was, until he woke up. He wasn't sure were he was, but a sense of warmth washed over him. However as soon as it came, it left just as quickly. He sat upright, slowly gaining the strength to stand. He was able to look at his armor. Burned. Melted. Charred. It appeared to resembled something of a skeleton, even his red cape had been burned all the way up to his shoulders. He was betrayed by his own brothers. His friends. He wasn't sure if he should be alive. In fact, he shouldn't. He felt death's embrace, the way his warm blood spilled from his back. After a few seconds of contemplation, he felt an agonizing burn snake it's way through the back of his left hand. A scorched burned circle was now permanently singed into his hand. Now he understood. The young knight had been cursed with eternal life. He'd been branded with Dark Sign. The heat was so bad it had melted off his gauntlet, clearing showing off the sign. The accursed were considered the lowest in society, often being hurled into dungeons or sent off to a far away asylum guarded by a large demon. This was his life now. But not before he killed the ones who did it to him. He looked down to see what had previously given him warmth. A small, stable bonfire with a coiled sword in the center. Buried within the burning bones is a small bottle, glowing with a bright orange hue. Estus. Brador tucked the vial into his many pouches. His previous sword had melted along with his armor, however it became a more elegant blade, almost as if steel was braided together, showing a hallowed blade. It was steel, but with a pulsating power emanating from it. With a quick swing black flames shot from the blade, coating the blade in abyssal power. He grinned. He had heard tales of blades seeped in the power of the abyss and he can tell this one was no exception.

Brador glanced around the chamber he was in. Ah yes, they had to pass through here to get to Smouldering Lake. Had they not seen this bonfire? Not that it mattered anymore, his life was over, metaphorically speaking. Of course it would never truly be over, he had become undead. Though he supposed that this curse was a sort of blessing in disguise, no matter how many times he died, he would kill his former brothers for executing him. Brador was surprised by himself. He was never one for petty revenge, however being slain like a pig was far from respectful. In all honestly, he would hope they would become undead just like him. Coming back to life essentially ended it, as undead were considered lower than low. Even the thieves and the thralls looked down upon the undead.

As he slowly made his way back to Lothric Castle, he couldn't help but notice a sort of hunger. He didn't need to eat, in fact none of the undead did, but it was as if he just wanted to kill something that moved. He couldn't be going hollow already, could he? That usually took a while, depending on the undead. Perhaps he needed a few souls? He had been murdered, so he assumed his soul had been absorbed by a passing undead. Something the undead had that the living didn't was the ability to absorb thousands of sounds, millions even, while as a living person could only have their own. There have been tales of people who were able to absorb more as a human, but those endings where never happy. After a short walk he noticed he was exiting the catacombs, coming into the chamber that used to be a church of he recalled. However what he wasn't expecting to see was the Abyss Watchers, especially sense they all used there souls to keep the Flame ignited. It had been forever sense the original Abyss Watchers were alive, even though the group had still remained. The Abyss Watchers were a well respected and feared group. They did their jobs well, keeping back the abyss, but often to well. If a town was thought to contain the abyss, often that town would be completely destroyed in trying to keep the darkness at bay. Their pointed helmets often brought fear into the eyes of the townsfolk, hoping they were only passing through. So when he saw them staring down at him as he climbed the steps out of the catacombs, he was confused. They all covered there mouths, but their eyes were steeped in sadness. One of them stepped out, and through the mask said, "Brador. What are you doing here? We had heard you died in the Smouldering Lake."

"I was butchered like a pig by my own brothers, Hawkwood. Riken, the slimy bastard, shoved his sword through me as my back was turned. None of them did anything. They left my body to burn. I... I woke up, it seems, next to a bonfire."

"You're undead." Hawkwood said, pulling down his mask.

"I am." Brador replied, a contempt sadness in his voice.

"We felt traces of the abyss in the catacombs. We believe the High Lord has fallen to deep into it, so were sealing of his chamber for the time being." Hawkwood turned his glance to the greatsword on Brador's back. "Do you mind telling me what's on your back?"

"... It's my sword." Brador said hesitantly.

"Would you mind giving it to us?" Hawkwood asks, his hand outstretched.

"I... I can't." Hawkwood sighs at Brador's reply.

"Don't make us have to take it from you, Brador. I know you'll come back, but I would rather not strike down a friend."

"Please. Don't. I'm going back to Lothric to kill the men who slayed me. I'll give it up then." Brador pleas, almost begging. The Abyss Watchers mull over his offer, some saying absolutely no, and others wishing to take up their friends offer.

"We can't leave the catacombs unguarded. I'll go with you Brador. I won't have your back in this fight, but I can't let you escape with that blade." Hawkwood says, approaching his friend.

"That's fine. I'll be happy to give it up then." After Hawkwood says goodbye to his former Abyss Watchers, they both leave the troop behind to go through Farron Keep, a swamp area that leads into the Crucifixion Woods. There travel through the swamp was uneventful, even for the occasional Ghru that ambushed them.

"You're pupils are black now, did you know?" Hawkwood said as they trudged through the knee high swamp.

"Is that so?" Brador asks, Hawkwood only nodding in reply. "Do you know how long I was dead for?"

"We were station at the High Wall for a while, we thought we felt signs of the Abyss there, we were mistaken, however. Riken came back with a band of men looking very downtrodden, though now I realize they were acting. They told us all of what happened to you. I was personally saddened by the lose, you've always been a friend to me. They said you had died a day ago from when they arrived. So if I had to guess, I would say around two and a half weeks." Brador's eyes widen a bit at this, though he can't say he was to surprised. The initial death usually takes a while to come back from. "I must warn you, Brador, the conditions of these lands is deteriorating quickly. In the span of two weeks many have realized that the fire is fading. About a week after you died, the bell tolled. It tolled four times, Brador. That never happens. First it was us to be awoken from our deaths. We never wanted the duty of lighting the fire, but we stepped up when the world did not. However this time we abandon that duty in order to keep the abyss back, a much greater threat. Then it was Yhorm that was awoken."

"The giant of the Profaned Capital?" Brador said, shocked.

"The very same. However he abandoned his duty as well." Hawkwood then paused, a look of disgust on his face.

"The next was Aldrich, Saint of the Deep." Hawkwood spat out his name like it was poison on his tongue. "Do you know what Aldrich is? He was a proud cleric of the Cathedral of the Deep, only he acquired a habit of devouring men. Before he knew it, he had eaten so many people that he bloated like a stuck pig. He morphed into sludge, oozing into a ball of evil. So they made him a Lord of Cinder, not for virtue, or respect. But because of might. He was a cesspit of souls, just right for kindling the flame. But just like the rest of us, he abandoned his duty. Then something that hasn't happened in ages occurred. Their was a fourth ring, calling forth the ash. Do you know about them?" Hawkwood asked.

"Yes. They were once undead who were not powerful enough to become Lords of Cinder, and they were consumed by the fire when they tried to kindle it. "Whenever the linking of the fire is threatened, the bell tolls calling forth the Lords of Cinder." So goes the saying. Only this time, the lords abandoned their thrones. So they call out the next best thing, giving the failed undead another try. Only if I recall...aren't they meant to hunt down the former lords to become powerful enough?" Brador asks, worry in his voice for his friend.

"That they do. Sooner or later we'll be confronted by an Unkindled Ash, and he'll slay us all, then do what none of us could." He says, acceptance in his voice. "Come, we should be nearing the Crucifixion Woods." Once the conversation ended, it was never brought up again, the journey containing only silence as they made their way to the High Wall.

After a days worth of walking, the sun was slowly rising. Hawkwood and Brador stopped in their tracks when they realized what was happening. The abyss had showed up, Darkwraiths were attacking Lothric. The duo ran into the keep, hoping to aid any survivors, killing any Darkwraiths that came across their path. Once they reached the High Walls courtyard they could see all of Lothrics Knights holding back the Darkwraiths, though it was obvious there numbers had dwindled. Knights with half strapped armor were running around, the captain shouting orders. In all the mayhem, Brador laid eyes upon his killer. His smug grin was replaced with relief as the knights finally stopped the last wave of Darkwraiths. After a look around he noticed that a few from his former squad mates had been victims of the attack, good riddance to bad rubbish. Soon the knights realized there were two extra's among their ranks. Some saw Hawkwood and smiled at the sight of an Abyss Watcher, however their smiles quickly faded when the saw who he was with. Almost all of the knights had recognized him, horror being the only emotion plastered on to their faces. His betrayer noticed him, and called for the knights.

Without hesitation, they unsheathed their weapons, surrounding him. Hawkwood looked down to Brador. "I have to leave now, Brador. Just... just keep the sword." Hawkwood turned heel and left his friend to the ten knights surrounding him.

"That's Brador? Riken you said he died in the Smouldering Lake." he heard a knight say.

"I did. That whoreson killed me himself." Brador replied, spitting on the ground in disgust.

"What's he talking about Riken?" The Knight's Captain said.

"He's lying. He's just angry we left his body. Look at his armor, it melted!" Riken yelled, hesitantly, trying to save his hide.

"Just let me deal with Riken. I'll leave once I've skinned the bastard." Brador says, staring down his murderer.

"I can't let you do that, Brador. If what you said is true, he will face his crimes. Leave now, we'd hate to strike you down once again." The Captain said.

"I'd hate to have to kill you all just for one man. You were my brother's once, and I'd never wish death upon you all. Should you strike me down I'll always come back to end this murderer's life." Brador announces, taking his abyssal blade from his back.

"I can't let you Brador. Please. He will pay for his crimes, I can assure you. Leave the High Wall, there's been to much blood spilled today."

"This is the last chance I'm giving you all. Captain Reyes, just let me do what you're going to do later. Let his blood be on my hands." Brador pleas.

"H-Hey, Captain Reyes, please I didn't kill him." Riken starts to beg.

"Shut up Riken. Brador for the last time, leave. We've no need for an undead here." The Captain says.

"Just kill the cursed fool." A knight says behind him. Brador can hear the knight walking up from his back, and quickly swings his sword around, using the momentum to get a powerful vertical swing. In doing so, his blade is coated in black flames, as if it the sword was a brazier for the flames. Once the initial swing is done, Brador realizes what has happened. The knights head rolls to the right along with the blade. The headless suit of armor falls to it's knees before falling at the undead's feet.

After a few silent moments the surrounding knights yell out a war cry and charge for Brador, with Riken staying behind the crowd. The undead rolls out of the way, dodging through a gap in the circle of knights. When he stands up, he does another 180 swing at his back, striking a few knights across the breastplate. Another knight charges him, sword in hand. Brador moves the sword to the side using his open hand, the blade leaving a deep gash in his palm. The parry makes the knight stumble, and Brador shoves his blade through his chest. When the knight drops, Brador puts his boot next to his sword and uses the leverage the yank out his greatsword. Brador puts down his cut palm to the floor, and a snake of black flames rips forward, burning two more of Lothric's knights. Now all that remains is Riken, Captain Reyes, and another nameless knight, who quickly tucks his tail between his legs and runs away from the massacre.

"Captain Reyes you should follow that knight's example. I never wanted the rest of you to die, but you all left me no choice. Give me Riken, or I'll strike you down as well." Brador turns his attention to the helmet-less captain, who just sighs.

"I suppose you've earned this. Just remember that these boys used to be your brothers, and you slaughtered them." Reyes says, and tosses his spear and greatshield to the floor.

"Captain Reyes? You can't.. please you can't!" Riken begs.

"Quit whining boy. You had this coming the moment you slaughtered him like a swine." Reyes scratches his bloodied beard and walks away. They both watch Reyes leave, and Brador puts his greatsword behind his back and walks up to Riken.

"Please, Brador, I was wrong. I just didn't want the competition. We're brothers, remember? Please... I don't want to die." Riken has his hands folded together, be it in prayer or a form of begging for his life.

"When you struck me down, you ruined my life. Undead are nothing in this world. You are considered lower than a slave, Riken. I wish that when you stabbed me in the back that I wouldn't have come back, but now, I'm forever cursed to walk this land. I wouldn't even wish my fate upon you." Brador says, staring at the cowering knight.

"I'm sorry, Brador. I really am." Riken reaches out for the undead, and places his hand on his shoulder. "Please... I've been a coward, I don't want to die." He asks pitifully.

"I can't let you leave, Riken." Brador grabs his wrist, locking it to his shoulder. Brador takes the dagger strapped to Riken's side and cuts his hand off. A man who is afraid to die makes a sickening noise when he is close to the end. Clasping his stump, Riken shrieks in agony.

Brador drops the dagger and holds out his wounded palm, conjuring the abyss into his hand. He places the same hand upon Riken's face and begins pumping the black flames through his body. Brador wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, but on a particularly boring day of being on Wall Watch, he had begun reading about pyromancies. One in particular, Sacred Flame, was used as a sort of baptism of fire, quite literally. A person would place their hand upon a sinner's face and purify them with the flames as it coursed through their body. Not many survived the process, even without using it's full potential. Ever sense that day, Brador has always had a fascination for pyromancies, and even began learning a few, so using this abyss fueled fire was of no issue to him.

Brador could tell Riken was resisting it all, which actually made the the process worse for him. Of course the undead wanted this fool to suffer, but there's only so much pain one could cause another without some for of regret. After a few more seconds, Riken's screams stopped. His eyes were sunken in and rolled behind his head. Black fog oozed from his mouth, nostrils, eyes and ears. As the former knights lifeless husk dropped to the floor a grim satisfaction was felt in the undead. However, there was something else. An emptiness. It wasn't regret, because he didn't regret what he did, but instead of the satisfaction of completing a task, it was like nothing mattered anymore. He had a goal and he completed it, but what now? It was a terrible feeling, so he soon created another goal. Learn more pyromancies. Clearly this wasn't the time for it, so he went into the library that the young prince Lothric had. Lothric was always learning about miracles, sorceries, and pyromancies from one of his advisers, but he couldn't remember which one. There must be some books about it there.

As Brador broke into the library, he hurriedly searched for the books. He was sure that Captain Reyes would be marching a counter attack against him, no doubt angered by the fact he killed ten of his men. The Lothric Knight's had a massive size, and a few dead wouldn't much make a dent. The hurried undead managed to find three tomes about pyromancy, one from the Great Swamp, one from a Grave Warden and another from the land of Carthus. He found a knapsack nearby and placed the three books inside of it. As he slung it around he shoulder, he was already walking out of the library, however the sight before him was less than joyous. Captain Reyes and about fifty other knights, archers and pikemen were all staring the undead down.

"I know this won't bring you down for good, Brador. But I also know you won't come back here because of this. Fire." Reyes commands.

"Wai-" Brador was swiftly cut off by a flury of arrows, all striking his legs and chest, missing anything that would end him quickly. Almost all of the arrows go all the way through. He drops to his knees and coughs up blood. A few of the pikemen come up and stab his thigh, just letting out blood. A few knights come up to him and stab his chest with their respective daggers. Brador's breathing is reduced to a raspy wheeze. Finally it's his former captain that comes up.

"You were a good soldier, Brador. It's a shame it all had to come to this. Riken got what he deserved, that much I can say. Wherever you end up, I wish you the best. Be careful out there, Brador. I'd hate to see you go hollow." Reyes takes out his dagger and drags the blade across Brador's nose, causing a large wound that goes from the top left of his eyebrow, across the bridge of his nose, and below he right eye. After wounding the wounded undead, he shoves the dagger through his chest, twisting the blade. The ripping of tendons and muscle is audible to all around. "Please. Never come back." was the last thing Brador heard before his vision went black.

Brador couldn't say he was scared. He knew it was fruitless. He'd wake up again. Always. Forever. However, where he would wake up was questionable. Before, he awoke near a bonfire close to where he had died, but he hadn't touched that bonfire or any of the others he had passed, so perhaps he would just end up anywhere. When he woke up he could feel the cold ground through his melted armor. As he moved his left hand, he could feel the smooth, lush grass below him. With a slow opening of his eyes, all he saw was red. He pushed himself against something hard. It appeared he was in a forest, though instead of the sickening green color the Crucifixion Woods was, the leaves were a beautiful ruby red. This place was quite tranquil, it brought him some sort of serenity.

The silence was broken when he heard about seventeen pairs of feet coming towards him. Instinctively, he grabbed his sword and attempted to stand, though his knees gave out instantly. It appeared his body hadn't fully healed, which was odd, however the obvious sign of no close by bonfire answered the reason as to why he wasn't automatically healed from his wounds. It appeared he'd be dying very soon again, though he could think of worse places for it to happen.

"Hey uh... Professor Goodwitch? I think I... I see someone over there." A voice announced.


	2. Chapter 2

Brador locked eyes with the girl as the older woman, the professor, came rushing towards her. "Ruby, go call the bullhead with my scroll." The professor commands while giving the girl in the red, Ruby her scroll. "Excuse me sir. May I ask what you're doing in the Emerald Forest?" The blonde professor asks, though through her tone of voice, it was definitely not an option to not answer her.

Whether than decide to lie to her, which he gathered would not be a wise decision, he told her undead told her the truth. "I'm not sure. I have only been here for a few moments," he replies.

"I beg your pardon? You do not know why you are here?" The professor comments.

"Indeed, you are correct." Brador says, looking at the younger crowd behind her, the students no doubt.

"That is quite troubling. May I ask your name?" The professor was clearly eyeing him, still not sure if he was dangerous or not.

"You may call me Brador. May I ask of you your name?" Brador asks as his eyes drop to his blade.

"My name is Glynda Goodwitch. I am a professor at Beacon Academy." The professor replies.

"Beacon Acad-?" Brador was cut off short before he could finish, as the girl in read comes back.

"Professor Goodwitch, the bullhead is on it's way." Ruby says as she hands Glynda her scroll back.

"Excellent job Ruby. Now sir, have you sustained any injuries?" Glynda asks, tucking her scroll into her pocket.

"No. However I am very weak. May I attempt to get up without being struck down?" Brador locks eyes with Glynda as she ponders over the question.

"You may, though don't think I haven't noticed your sword. May you perhaps give it to me once you've gotten your barrings? As a sign of trust, I'm sure you understand." Glynda finishes, giving her demands.

"As you wish." Brador tucks his knees into his chest, pushing the heels of his feet into the ground. With some awkward movements, he manages to kneel against the tree he was leaning against. With what strength he could muster, he manages to stand up on his feet, albeit without much structure. "Now it is time for you to trust me. Please, if you would, come take the blade from me. I do not believe I'm quite ready for walking yet." Brador asks. The professor says nothing, but walks over by the undead's side and picks up his blade, her eyes never leaving his. Just as she takes the greatsword, an audible buzzing is heard by all. The bullhead.

"Good. I believe the bullhead has arrived. Brador, you're going to have to come with us. Do you require assistance in walking?" Glynda asks.

"I can try, should it make your job easier." The moment Brador takes a step, his knee buckles, causing a wince to escape his mouth. "It appears not." Brador says, chuckling to only himself.

"That is fine. Yang, go and help up Brador. Sir, if you do anything to harm my students, you will be in an even worse condition." Glynda says with a stern voice.

"You won't have to worry about that, madam." Brador says as he notices the tallest of the female students walks towards him, in quite revealing clothing.

"Don't try anything, buddy." The blonde replies, as she wraps his arm around her neck.

The group walks in silence, aside from Brador, who continues to make a few random winces and breaths at the labored stroll. As they make it to the clearing, Brador's eyes widen. "What in the abyss is that..."

"That is the bullhead. Are you not familiar?" The professor turns around, a quizzical look on her face.

"Definitely not." Brador replies, awe in his eyes and voice.

"They are a flying ship of sorts, able to take passengers to and from places through the air." Glynda explains.

"By the gods. Man has learned how to fly?" Brador asks, his eyes never leaving the ship.

"It would appear so." Glynda says, not convinced.

"Incredible." Is all Brador says as he is ushered on to the bullhead. He is shoved on to the seat in the middle, the professor taking the seat in front of him, and all the students are instructed to sit away from him.

"I'm sure you understand sir, but may I see your wrists?" Glynda asks.

"Whatever for?" Brador questions as he puts his hands out. As soon as the words escape his mouth, he figures out why. Thick iron shackles are placed upon his wrists.

"Is this at all necessary? You've already stripped me of my weapon, and my condition is not one of fighting." Brador asks bitterly.

"Just a precaution." Glynda replies. The rest of the flight was quiet, of course from the engine of the bullhead. The restrained undead felt the eyes of the students upon him every so often, though it was to be expected. Brador doubted this happened often. He couldn't think about this very hard though, the fact that he was flying was astonishing him. He clearly wasn't in Lothric, no this must be some neighboring land with a higher advancement. Mirrah, he knew, had been making advancements in the use of different fuel sources. Drangleic, before it fell, had been using souls to fuel golems. Lindelt was said to be using miracles to make men fly, but for a very short moment, and it often wasn't as effective as just walking. But whatever kingdom he happened to be in, it was much higher up on the technology totem.

Brador had fallen asleep. He hadn't expected he'd been so tired. He supposed dying took a toll on the body, especially without a bonfire to help nurture the wounds. However, he wasn't asleep for long, as he was startled awake by the professor. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but you must get off the bullhead. You're going to have a talk with our Headmaster. Students, go to your dorms, classes are canceled for today. I'm sorry our field trip was cut so short." Glynda says as she steps off the bullhead. Brador stands successfully, and even takes a few stops until he's off the bullhead, though very gingerly.

"I see your condition has improved. Very well, follow me to the Headmaster's office." Glynda commands, turning her back and gesturing to follow her. Thankfully, she takes slow and methodical steps so that Brador make keep pace with her.

As they walk through the Academy, Brador can't help but be impressed. The architecture was much like that of any castle, though with much more color and a livelier feel. Many students they passed were rightfully confused at the man in binds, walking as fast as any shambling hollow. The walk was quiet between the two, thought only because of the respect the blonde commanded. They twisted down this hall and another, so much so Brador would assuredly be lost should he be on this venture by himself. "Brador?" Glynda says, an angry lilt in her voice after had saying his name more than a few times.

"Yes? I am sorry, madam, I was absorbed in thought." Brador concedes.

Glynda merely sighs. "We've arrived. Please, step into the elevator." Brador says nothing, but follows the professors instructions. Glynda follows suit, and they both stand by each other inside the somewhat cramped space. Upon such close proximity, Brador can realize something. Glynda appears to be a great bit taller than him. Brador had always been on the shorter spectrum, though he wasn't short himself. He'd consider himself maybe an inch shorter than the average Lothric Knight, but Glynda would beat them all. Perhaps it was her unusual footwear. Those type of shoes were uncommon, to say the least, even the highest of royalty hardly wore them. Brador mused for a bit and Glynda hit the button, perhaps she was a high member of this society.

This elevator was taking quite a long while. Brador had been leaning against the back wall for a significant amount of time while Glynda looked quite annoyed. Finally the last ding was heard and the doors slide open. Brador pushed himself off the back and followed Glynda, who had already walked out. Ozpin was standing up and staring out the window, no doubt looking down at the courtyard at the busy students. "Ozpin?"

"Yes Glynda?" An audible slurping sound is heard as the Headmasters hand is lifted to his mouth.

"It appears we have a special case on our hands." Glynda announces, slightly looking down and back at Brador.

"Oh? Is that so?" Brador looked over the man. Tall, thin, gray hair. No doubt this man has many stories to tell. The man had a certain air about him. He voice was cool but gave of the feeling of authority.

"Indeed it is. While the students and I were out on our scheduled field trip, we came across a peculiar sight." Glynda explains.

"And I'd assume that sight is standing beside you?" Ozpin questions.

"In fact he is. How did you know?" Glynda asks.

"I saw someone standing next to you in the reflection of the glass." Ozpin says, amused. When the older man turns around, his eyes squint in confusion.

"And what is so special about our guest? Does he wish to enroll?" Ozpin wonders.

"No, in fact he can't seem to remember why he was even in the Emerald Forest." Glynda explains.

"Curious indeed. Excuse me sir, would you mind stating your name?" Ozpin asks the stranger.

"Of course, my name is Brador." Brador's rougher sounding voice must have thrown off Ozpin's expectations. The boy before him already had a stubble beard, and most students shaved theirs. In fact he couldn't think of any male students here who had any sort of facial hair. His hair was short, almost shaved bald. He wasn't the typical student Huntsman.

"And your last name?" Ozpin pushes on.

"Brador -" The undead stops. Could he not remember his last name? It was so obviously on the tip of his tongue, yet it was if he hadn't heard his last name ever. He had heard of undead slowly losing a sense of self, forgetting their past, their family, their names even. He of course knew his first name, he couldn't ever forget that. But as for last name, he was clueless. He remembered his family, his old home, everything one should, however his last name was foreign to him. "I can't remember." Brador admits.

"Is that so? Well Brador, may I ask you a few questions? Glynda, you may leave." Ozpin walks forward and sits down at his desk chair, setting down his mug. With one gesture, Brador did the same, sitting across from the Headmaster. "This will only be a few questions, and then I will decide what to do with you." Ozpin says while sitting back, hands folded on his desk.

"Of course, do as you must." Brador replies.

Ozpin nods. "Do you know where you are?"

"Beacon Academy."

"Correct. Where are you from?" Ozpin asks.

"Lothric." Brador says with confidence.

"Interesting indeed. Are you aware that Lothric doesn't exist?" Ozpin takes his mug and drinks from it after his statement.

"I'm sorry?"

"Lothric. This kingdom you describe. It doesn't exist. This is the land of Remnant. There is Vacuo, Mistral, Atlas, and Vale, the kingdom we are currently in. Lothric does not exist, nor has it ever I'm afraid. You'd do well to not lie to me, Mr. Brador." Ozpin says, though his tone doesn't suggest anger, or that he thinks Brador is lying to him.

"This is not in jest, Headmaster." Ozpin watches as Brador's fists ball up on his desk.

"That is quite the interesting mark you have on your left hand. What might that mean? Is there a meaning?" Ozpin asks, drinking from his mug again.

"Are you not familiar? Is this land not cursed by the undead?" Brador sits up in his chair, hands now firmly placed where fists once were.

"The Undead? No, I don't believe I am familiar. Would you care to enlighten me?" Ozpin does nothing but readjust his seating in his chair.

Brador merely stares in awe at his lack of knowledge. Such a man should surely know of the undead blight. "From... from what I understand the world consisted of nothing but Arch Trees, giant crags, and Immortal Dragons. That is, of course, once the Flame was discovered. Three powerful souls erupted from the flame, Gwyn, Nito, and the Witch of Izalith. They became the first lords to ever rule over the land. However a fourth found another soul. The Dark Soul. This was the Furtive Pygmy, who formed man. Such as the natural order of things, the flames began to fade. However, should the fire fade, the Gods would lose all their power, and man would take over. Gwyn, who wanted his children to stay in power, sacrificed himself to the Flame to keep it lit. The natural order was upset, and so came about the Undead, immortal beings cursed with the darksign."

"Immortality? That sounds more like a blessing." Ozpin asks.

"Some thought so as well. The majority did not. The Undead were seen as abominations, often herding them into asylums to keep them their for eternity, often they would go hollow." Brador explains.

"Hollow?"

"To go hollow means you've lost purpose in your endless life. The darksign keeps you alive forever, but death after death takes a toll on the mind. When someone goes hollow, they often become a husk of what they once were. Some undead set a task for themselves. However when that task is completed, they often to hollow as they see it as their being nothing left to live for."

"So that there on your hand is the darksign?" Ozpin asks.

"Indeed. It is." Brador says in a somber mood.

"Have you died?" Ozpin leans forward, his hands now curled on each other in front of his face.

"Twice now. The first death often takes the longest to come back from. Once you do, the darksign brands itself upon your skin. My second death... well somehow brought me here." Brador explains.

"I see. Are you okay, then? Dying may take a toll on the mind, but I'd imagine just as much on the body. I saw the way you were standing. You've been weakened, no?" Ozpin inquires.

"My condition is worse for wear." Brador says.

"You will go to the infirmary then. Our excellent doctors will look you over your condition, and I will visit with you afterwards. I trust you can find it yourself?" Ozpin asks.

"I'm sure I'll find my way. I thank you for your kindness. If I may ask... what do you plan on doing with me?" The undead shuffles in his spot as the words exit his lips.

"All in due time. We'll speak once the doctors have finished your exam." Ozpin gets up from his seat and walks back towards the window. Brador takes this as his queue to leave. The warrior walks back to the elevator, staring at the buttons for a good while. "The very bottom button, Mr. Brador." Ozpin exclaims. Without another word, the undead presses the button and the doors slide shut, leaving the image of a tall, thin, Gray haired man in his eyes.

Brador probably should have asked for directions. Every turn seemed to take him in the wrong direction, even though he was following the signs. He had passed the same students a few times, and each time, it earned him an odd look. It became apparent to Brador that he was not welcomed here. His attire stood out significantly, with his heavy plate armor, albeit melted, looked quite different from everyone else's free spirited look. No matter, he was determined to find this infirmary, and nothing would stop him. After all, why betray the trust of the one person who may believe you.

A few minutes later he was staring at a door with the word "Infirmary" plastered on the door. With a slight push he entered the room. This was much cleaner, and whiter, than any doctor's workplace he had been too. It was not uncommon for the doctor to make you worse, as all the diseases seamed to linger in their offices. However this place seemed to be extraordinarily clean. "Hello! You must be Brador! We were contacted by Headmaster Ozpin to look after you!" The woman, who Brador assumed to be the doctor's assistant, seemed all to cheery.

"I am." The undead replied.

"Perfect. If you'll go over by that bed and strip off your armor, we can get all set with your examination." The nurse gave a heartfelt smile, which Brador returned. It had been a while sense he smiled, and it was odd to him that a doctor, of all people, could bring it out of him. Heeding her instructions, he walked over to the bed she pointed out, with a specially provided armor rack. Strap after strap, buckle after buckle, he managed to get his armor off. He placed it on the provided rack, and he was finally able to inspect it.

"Definitely melted." Brador says to himself, a small frown on his lips. Even after it all happened, Brador was still fond of all he did as a squire. True he was never formally a knight, as he was struck down before that could ever officially become one, he still treasured those moments. Now to see his armor melted and twisted, almost resembling that of a rib cage, brought down his mood.

"It seems you're all ready! We'll get started right away then. Please, sit on the examination table." The same nurse asked. "My name is Elsana, it is nice to meet you Brador." The nurse does nothing at the lack of a reply, but does everything expected from a physical exam. She check his head and neck, nails hair and limb strength. "All seems good so far. Would you mind taking your shirt off for the rest of the physical?" Brador looks at her odd but complies, removing his garb.

"Oh my." Elsana says.

"Is there something wrong?" Brador looks down to his chest when he realizes what she was so shocked at. The scars. Most were arrow wounds, but the prominent wound through the heart and sword the back stood out. Those particularly would the ugliest to look at. The knotted, discolored healed skin was not the most pleasant thing to look at. And from what he remembers, he should have a large one across his face from Captain Reyes. "Oh... I see. Not the most pleasant thing to look at, is it?" Brador asks.

"No. no! I think they look fine. In fact, I love a man who can really fight." Nurse Elsana gives him a wink, and places a stethoscope to his heart and lungs. The comment seems to be lost on Brador, and he only stares at the top of her head as she listens to his organs. "All seems to be in check. I just need to draw some blood and you'll be set to go." As the nurse leaves, Ozpin and Glynda both walk in.

"Does all go well?" Ozpin's eyes drift to Brador's scarred chest for but a brief moment, but the undead understands.

"From what I can tell." Before they can finish, Elsana comes back with a needle in handle. As she removes the tip cover, she asks for his left arm. As he presents it to her, she stabs him right in his vein. Once she removes a quick vial of blood, she quickly prances off to get it tested.

"I'm glad to see you in health. As for your living arrangements, there is a small cabin out in the woods that I believe would fit you perfectly. It was once an outpost during a war that was used to stockpile weapons. It has sense fallen into disrepair, so for.. I'd say two days, you will stay at beacon while we renovate that old cabin for living purposes." Ozpin explains.

"But sir, do you think it's wise to let some stranger live among us? He could poss a threat to every student in this school." Glynda retaliates.

"Oh hush Glynda. I had a chance to speak to Brador alone, and I believe him to be of no perceivable threat to any of us. And I believe that Mr. Brador understands that should he attempt anything against my students or our faculty that he is standing is a school full of heavily armed and trained students. Isn't that right, Mr. Brador?" Ozpin asks.

"Indeed it is. I cannot thank you enough for this hospitality." Brador bows his head slightly to show his respect.

"I wouldn't thank me so soon. You won't be staying by yourself in any of our dorms, as they are all taken up. I've selected Team RWBY as your dorm mates. They have already been told of this, and are to be expecting you. Mrs. Goodwitch will you please escort Brador to RWBY's dorm? I will stay here to pick up all of Brador's medical reports." Ozpin asks, though his tone sounded as though she didn't really have an option.

"Of course. Follow me." Glynda says, annoyed.

"Here we are." Glynda exclaims as knocks on the door. Brador watches as she shifts her weight to her right leg, crossing her arms. A few moments go by before the door opens up to a short girl with black hair and red tips answers the door. Her eyes drift to Brador for a second, but she ultimately settles on Glynda. Brador notices three girls in the back, and he's sure he recognized them from the forest. They all seemed to be in their nightly outfit.

"So uh.. are you coming in or what?" Brador was snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of the girls voice. She was staring at his face expectantly, and all he did was nod. Before he enters he turns around to Glynda.

"Ms. Goodwitch, it's been a pleasure to meet you." He gives a proper bowl, placing his hands on his thighs, and leaning forward.

"It's been... interesting for me, Brador. Sleep well tonight. You too, Ruby." Glynda then leaves the teens to their devices. Brador turns around to see Ruby giving him an awkward smile.

"Well, c'mon in. You can meet the team." Ruby says as she walks into the dorm room. Brador follows suit, and when they both enter the room, he notices three pairs of eyes staring back at him. "This is the team. Team RWBY. Over there is Weiss, that's Blake, and over there is my sister Yang. And I'm Ruby, obviously." Weiss, Blake, and Yang all give different amount of enthusiasm as he is introduced.

"Hello you three. My name is Brador. I am truly sorry that I am invading your privacy, believe me that this was not my idea. Think of this as only a temporary housing. I should be out of your hair by two days at the maximum. If I may ask, where might the lavatory be located?" The girls seem to be a bit shocked at his vernacular, and the three, excluding Ruby, all point to the door that is located on the right wall of the room. "Thank you kindly." Brador walks towards the door and grabs the knob. With a quick turn he swings the door into the black bathroom. "Excuse me, would any of you happen to have a candle of sorts? It is very dark."

"Uh. The light switch should be on the right wall as soon as you walk in. Next to the door." Ruby says. Brador looks at the wall and sees a switch. He flips the switch and the lights turn on.

"Incredible. Thank you very much." Brador answers before shutting the door.

* * *

 **Hey guys! Sloth here. So this chapter was very dialogue filled without any action. If that makes you a little peeved, I understand. I promise the action will pick up soon enough, but I got a character to establish and whatnot. If you're wondering about what Brador's gear actually is, I answer it in one of the review responses, so check it out there. As for the choice of Brador staying with team RWBY, I understand its very outplayed and cliche. I didn't really enjoy writing it, so if it seems rushed that's why. I'm really only using it as a means to get them to know each other. Lastly I just want to say thank you for all who followed, favorited and reviewed! You guys keep me going. I'm going to make a habit of replying to all reviews, and I'll do so at the end of every chapter. Think of it as a way for me to connect with you guys.**

 **That One Mexican Guy:** Well I'm glad to know you like it! :D

 **Zapper3000380:** Thank you for your review! I listened to you and got rid of those giant text walls. As for your question, no I do not think I'll be keeping the parry mechanic in this story, I was just driving home the fact that Brador didn't really care if he died. That hail-Mary Parry, right? Also, don't think of this as stat based. I'm not sure if you were, but that's what I got out of it. Thanks again for your review!

 **THE CHAMP:** His gear is the Firelink Set (Soul of Cinder) minus the helmet and missing one gauntlet (his left). His sword is the Onyx Blade from the DLC.


	3. Chapter 3

The floor had been especially uncomfortable. Brador had slept in a measure of less than stellar areas but surprisingly the cool carpet was among the worst. He'd slept on cold, damp slate and nearly molten hot rock, in his armor even, but for some reason he couldn't manage to close his eyes and shut off.

Perhaps it was this whole situation. Most, if not all people in this situation would find this predicament to be on the crazier side. He doubted he'd ever see Lothric again, though he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to anyways. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he could see the rise and fall of each chest as each steady breath filled their lungs. How lucky they were to have the sweet grip of sleep upon them. Perhaps once the world had awoken they would execute him, not that that would really do anything. He knew that wouldn't happen, at least he hoped so. But these people didn't seem the executing type.

Brador looked out the window upon the shattered moon, seeing it slowly fall back upon the planet. Morning would come soon. For someone who hadn't slept in a very long while, it was almost remarkable how he wasn't entirely tired. Sure he felt a slow, off putting grogginess on his eyes but he felt like he could take on a demon at any moment. This was probably another side effect of being undead. They didn't need to eat, and now they apparently didn't need to sleep. Well, if anything, being undead certainly was informative to Brador. Maybe he should write a book.

Brador chuckled at his own joke, although it was likely to loud as he heard the four girls stir in their slumber. The thing the undead wanted to do so badly right now was leave the room, the school grounds even, though he knew none of these options were really open to him. The Headmaster was being especially kind, even after Brador had told him his story. Offering residence to a stranger, especially one that could pose a threat? No doubt he had some ulterior motives.

The sky was no longer a dark blue, but a lighter shade. The night had ended, and dawn had set upon the people of this world. There was that feeling again. It was as if his very core had been removed, as if he was hollo-. No, not hollow. Hollowing didn't occur so quickly, at least it shouldn't. Some undead manage to share their stories in either tomes, scrolls, or what have you, they always handled hollowing differently. Some turned violent, others just lost hope until they withered away, and some clung to what they had for so long they could never except their fate. And fate it was. No undead could escape hollowing, even those chosen undead, or champion of ash bastards. He wondered how easy it would be, just to kill anyone that had crossed his path. No doubt he was skilled, probably more so than these students. He didn't have any weapons on him, but he could just lay on top and strangle them. He could feel their throats being crushed as each breath left the-

"Oh... you're awake? It's pretty early how long have been up?" The girl to his left said, Blake, he believes.

"To be honest, I haven't gone to sleep." Brador explains.

"Seriously? Well... I'm sorry you couldn't get comfortable, I doubt the floor is a fun place to sleep." Blake says.

"No, indeed it is not. May I ask why you happen to be awake?" Brador questions.

"I always wake up first, I guess it's just a habit of mine." Blake answers.

"I suppose I am the same, when I actually fall asleep that is." Brador chuckles, earning himself small laugh from Blake.

"Well, I usually go for coffee in the mornings. The school supplies their own little break room for the students, but obviously you have to buy your own amenities." Blake looks over to the door then back at Brador, "Would you like to come with me?"

"Is that entirely wise?" Brador answers hesitantly, not wanting to cause the girl trouble.

"Well, I don't know. Do you plan on attacking me?" Blake asks.

"No, I do not." The undead replies. At this point Blake was already up and getting ready for her day. Brador was watching her intently, the way she slid around the room making barely any noise. "Should I be allowed, I would enjoy accompanying you to coffee."

"Then let's go, I'm all set." Blake says as she walks towards the door, waiting for Brador to do the same. The undead gets up and walks next to the black haired girl, who opens the door and exits the room.

"So tell me Blake. You didn't really want me to come along, did you?" Brador questions, and eyebrow raised.

"That obvious, huh?" Blake asks, rubbing the back of her neck.

"As someone who has seen many sights, one tends to pick up a few tricks in noticing people behavior." Brador answers.

"Well, It would have been kind of awkward if I just got up and got dressed, leaving without a word." Blake tells him honestly.

"I appreciate your honestly. I would have to agree though, it would have been, how you say, awkward." Brador replies. They spend the remainder of their walk in agreeable silence, not wanting to disturb the peace. The walk wasn't much further now, and they both enter the recreation room together.

"Here it is. How do you take your coffee?" Blake asks as she walks towards the counter. Now Brador hadn't really expected this question, and to he really didn't have an answers.

"Uh.. well, how do you take yours?" Brador replies with the question, somehow trying to get his footing.

"Well truth be told I don't. I drink tea, mostly. Coffee is usually only for the more rough nights." Blake says. Ah, tea! Tea was something that Brador enjoyed, thoroughly in fact, especially when it wasn't being perverted by any other toxins or irritants that the leaves might have had.

"Tea! Ah yes. Well, me to. Just any regular cup of tea will do me most fine." Brador says, although a little to enthusiastically.

"No milk, sugar, anything?" Blake asks.

"Sugar? Well, I don't believe I've had tea with sugar before. Usually such fine ingredients are given to the nobles." Brador answers.

"Um. Okay. Well would you like to try it? Come on up, you can add as much as you like, as long as it fits your taste." Blake says, beckoning forth the undead. When he arrives next to her, she hands him a glass case full of the grainy white substance. The undead starts by adding a comically small amount to his tea, stirring it, and sipping. With a small frown, he had even more. With another taste, he contemplates for a bit, then adds even more. With one last taste, a pleasant smile spreads his way across his face.

"This is magnificent!" Brador says as he takes another sip. He couldn't help but see Blake trying to stifle her laughter.

"Well I'm glad you like it. Do you want to sit down?" Blake says through mumbled laughter.

"I would enjoy that immensely." Brador replies. They spend a good hour and a half sharing stories, some sad and some joyous, always filling up their tea should the need arise. Brador was happy to finally have the chance to have a civil talk with another person, and the void that had pooled in his person had been filled. There conversation had taken another saddening plunge when a certain voice was heard in the door frame of the rec room.

"Blake? What the hell are you doing? We were worried sick!" Yang yelled. Both of their attentions were turned to the blonde in the doorway.

"What are you talking about? I always come here in the morning." Blake defended.

"Yeah, but HE wasn't there when we all woke up either! We thought something happened! Like may-" Yang was quickly cut off of her rant by the raven haired girl.

"That he maybe what? Kidnapped me? Took me hostage? Gutted me like a pig? Be real, Yang. He couldn't of done anything without the whole school knowing in seconds. He certainly wasn't taking me off the school grounds, especially with the whole cliff." Blake announced. Yang had retaliated as some point, but Brador kind of drowned out their screaming tirade. Why had Blake defended him? She certainly owed him nothing, and for someone who you just met, it was a major form of respect. Slowly the argument had died out, with Yang admitting that they all may have overreacted.

"Alright fine, fine. I'll go tell Ruby and Weiss that you and... him are okay." Yang said as she turned around left.

"Thank you." Blake said sarcastically, with a satisfactory smile upon her face. Just as Yang left, another blonde had entered the recreation room.

"There you are Mr. Brador. Ozpin has a request for you, if you would follow me I will be able to brief you." Glynda asks.

"Of course Ms. Goodwitch. Blake, it has been a wonderful time. I thank you for the tea and conversation." Brador turns around and gives her the same bow Glynda had received the evening prior. Blake gives a small smile and a bow in response.

"Actually, Ms. Belladonna, would you please accompany me as well? You will fit into this process, at least team RWBY will." Glynda commands.

"Of course Ms Goodwitch." Blake gets up, setting her cup in the sink.

The walk is uneventful, nothing spoken among the trio, though Blake could tell where they were going. Once they reached their destination, Brador set his eyes upon what seemed like a hundred lockers.

"Mr. Brador, this is our locker room, where we store our equipment. Your equipment has already been stored in one of these lockers, and you will receive them once you are firmly placed in your new housing. As for the rest of today, Ozpin has suggested that you follow team RWBY to their classes so that you may... learn more things about this school and it's surroundings." Glynda says, catching herself before giving Blake more information than is warranted. "As for you the rest of today, you will follow team RWBY around in their classes. Most likely not for all of them, mind you, but some of the renovations of your housing are still being prepared."

"Thank you again, Ms Goodwitch. Both you and Ozpin have shown a stranger such great kindness." Brador says in gratitude.

"You're quite welcome. Now, as for your attire, you cannot walk around without a proper uniform, and your current clothing could... us some washing." Glynda admits. The undead couldn't really argue. Being able to wash your clothing was not something many got to do. Water was for drinking, and even that was in short supply. Often you drank ale, as most of the water was dirty and of no use to anyone

"Of course. Would you perchance have any spare articles?" Brador asks. He watches as Glynda walks over to one of the lockers and punches in a code. His armor was in there, as well as his weapon. She pulls out a folded suit, no doubt the uniform for Beacon, and places it into the undead's hands.

"Our uniform," Glynda explains, "You will wear it for today and return it upon your exit. There is a changing room over there, please step inside and change your clothing." Glynda commands.

"As you wish." Brador follows her gesture to the door and walks to it. With a small twist the door creaked open and the knight stepped inside. After a few moments he had changed, though he wasn't sure what to do with the long strip of red cloth. He walks out of changing room holding his previous clothing and that strip of cloth. "I am finished Ms. Goodwitch."

"Good. Now if you will follow Ms. Bellad-" Glynda stops short and looks at his neck. "Where is your tie?"

"Do you mean this?" Brador presents the tie to the oldest in the room. Glynda merely sighs.

"Yes. That tie. Here, let me do this for you." Glynda steps forward and leans down to pop up Brador's collar. She wraps the tie around his neck and does a few folds and twists with it that the undead couldn't follow. Soon enough, she was done and stepped back, brushing back a strand of hair that had fallen as she was looking down. "Good. Now if you'll just follow Ms. Belladonna back to her dorm you can all leave for the classes together." Glynda grabs the undead's old clothes and walks off.

"Alright well... Follow me." Blake commands.

After a few minutes of walking the two were back at the dorm. As Blake opened the door, Brador attempted to follow, however he was met with a hand to his chest. "Uh, well we're going to get changed, so just stay outside and we'll get you when we're done." Blake says.

"Oh, yes. Forgive me. I shall await your word." Brador replies stepping back, bowing his head slightly. Blake slowly closes the door in front of Brador and he steps to the side of the door. He presses his back to the wall and slides down it with a thud.

After waiting for a few moments, Brador summoned his pyromancy and watched as a tiny little flame danced around his fingers. A few cracks and ticks shoot embers from the fire. A minuscule smile spreads across the undead's face. Something so destructive and yet so beautiful. Slowly he builds up the little flame until it conjures into a ball of fire. Brador tosses it between his hands amusing himself as he waits for the ladies to finish.

"Is that your semblance?"

The fireball quickly exploded in his hands as he jumps from his own skin. "By the gods!" Brador looks at the person who asked the question. The blond boy in front of him had obviously been startled by Brador's outburst and had jumped back just like him. "Who are you?" Brador asks with both fear and anger in his voice.

"S-Sorry! I was just curious! My name is Jaune." The blond quickly got his footing back, and offers his hand to Brador. The undead takes it, not breaking his angry gaze as he was lifted up.

"My name is Brador. I can't say I'm at all pleased with our first meeting." Brador huffs as he dusts off his blazer.

"Yeah, sorry about that." Jaune apologizes, "So what are you doing out here, anyways? I haven't seen you around."

"I am a sort of guest here at Beacon. I won't be here any longer than today. I assume you are a student here?" Brador questions.

"I am. Leader of Team JNPR" Jaune explains.

"Leader, is that right? Very impressive." The undead congratulates. As there conversation continues, the door to RWBY's dorm opens up.

"Hey Jaune! And uh... Hey Brador." The Leader of Team RWBY says.

"Hello Ruby" Both Jaune and Brador reply.

"Well, we're all ready if we all went to head to class together." Ruby explains.

"Yeah sure. I'll go get everyone else." Jaune leaves the two alone in the hallway.

"So is everyone ready?" Brador inquires.

"Yeah, we can go inside if you want. JNPR shouldn't take long, but Nora may hold them up for some reason." Ruby muses.

"I'd be delighted. I will be able to know the rest of the much better. I really only know Blake, it seems." Brador says.

"Alright, come on in then." Ruby opens the door, gesturing him in to the dorm.

After a few steps, the undead was inside the dorm, Ruby standing behind him. His presence was apparently not expected, as he interrupted was appeared to be a heated argument. Blake was obviously getting the blunt of it all. "Speak of the devil." He heard Weiss say.

"I'm sorry, is my presence not wanted?" Brador asks, about to step out.

"It's okay Brador, we're about to leave soon anyways," Ruby consoles the undead. "Besides, they're just being stupid anyways." Ruby shoots the three a dirty look, causing them all to look away in embarrassment.

Soon after, the sound of a door opening was heard, causing Ruby and Brador to turn around and see all of Team JNPR. "Hey Ruby, you guys ready?" Asks Jaune in front of the rest of his team.

"Yeah we should be good, you all good to go?" Hearing no objections, they all silently walked to their proceeding classroom. Well, Brador was silent. The constant nonsensical blabbering of Nora and the bickering of Weiss, Blake and Yang was, quite frankly, getting on the undead's nerve. Obviously, the three were arguing about him. He took a few glances at Ruby and every time he did so, she gave him a meager glance, obviously wishing to apologize for her teammates behavior. With a small smile, Brador continued walking with the group.

* * *

Ozpin sat in his favorite chair, nursing the mug of coffee he always seemed to have. It wouldn't be long until Glynda showed up. Ozpin always seemed to enjoy her company, they got along quite well. However his mind was elsewhere. The mysterious boy that just so happened to show up at their doorstep. He didn't look much older than any of the other students, even despite his facial hair. However something that didn't seem to sit right with Ozpin, aside from Brador's actual story, was just how hardened the boy was. If what he said was true, it wouldn't surprise Ozpin to know the boy never really had a childhood. Born and raised to be a soldier if he had to guess.

If there was something that the Headmaster couldn't stand, it was the absolute fact that many of his students wouldn't make it into their thirties, some their twenties. This is why Ozpin had always stressed that he wanted his students to be kids for as long as their profession would allow. He supposed this was the reason that seeing the face that should belong to a fifty year old war veteran on such a young boy troubled Ozpin. Truth is, Brador's cabin had been finished relatively quickly. It only needed a few touch ups, but the Headmaster just wanted to give the boy some freedom from it all. Whatever ailed him wouldn't be gone forever, but perhaps being surrounded by some peers would give him some solace.

The manufactured sound of a ding was what broke Ozpin from his thoughts. With a quick jolt of his head, Ozpin saw Glynda walking out of the elevator. "Good afternoon Glynda, how goes the morning?" The Headmaster asked.

"Good enough, I suppose. The children haven't been to rowdy so far, though that may be because of their plus one." Glynda explained.

"Ah yes, Brador." Ozpin hummed, taking another drink from his mug.

"Do you believe him? His story?" Glynda pondered. The Headmaster mulled over the question for a few seconds, swishing around the coffee in his mug.

"I think I do. It's hard not to, despite how far fetched it is. I've heard a few stories of people not of this world entering Remnant by means unknown. Though obviously, many are undocumented and the majority fake. I may know a lot of things, more than any one man should, but that boy is a mystery to me." Ozpin says, content with his answer. After a long drink from his black gold, he took a glance at Glynda, herself deep in thought.

"I believe I'm happy with that answer. Now if you'll excuse me, I have the sparring class to oversee." Glynda says walking back to the elevator she previously exited from. Their eyes meet for a few moments as the door shut, a mutual understanding between them.

* * *

"And the match goes to Yang Xiao Long. Very good young lady, however when facing against such large opponents like Cardin make sure to use their size against them, instead of charging in whenever you deem it necessary. And Mr. Winchester, people are often going to be faster than you, so anticipate their movement, swing again when you think they aren't expecting it. The best way for you to land strikes is to catch your opponents off guard." The blonde professor explains.

The blonde brawler nods enthusiastically, giving a thumbs up and a "you got it" while the giant red head replied with an annoyed grumble.

"It appears we have time for one more match before lunch. Who would like to fight?" Glynda scanned the stands for any volunteers, and she saw a hand she wasn't expecting. "Brador. Are you sure?"

"Indeed, Ma'am." Brador replied, earning a few snickers from Team CRDL.

"Very well. Who would like to fight Brador?" The professor asked the crowd of children. No hands were raised, to Goodwitch to it into her own initiative. "Miss Schnee. Would you care for a match? You haven't yet sparred this week."

"Of course, professor Goodwitch." Weiss said with an immaculately annoyed tone in her voice. Of all the people, why did it have to be him? Sure she could take him easy, she was a Schnee after all. And besides, maybe she could teach him a lesson. The heiress wasn't entirely sure what the lesson was, but she really wanted to hit the undead.

"Good. Now if-" Glynda was caught off guard by the sight of a single combatant on the board. Of course, why would he be up their? With a sigh, she calls over the undead.

"Is there something wrong, professor?" Brador asks.

"No, but it appears your Aura has yet to be unlocked. If you would, please allow to unlock it." Glynda didn't really wait for permission as she placed her hand on his chest. Brador couldn't really follow what she was saying as a flood of power surged through him. It was unlike anything he could have imagined, almost intoxicating. A sheen of black surrounded him, though slowly fading after the professors chant was done. "There. We should be all set now. Please take your position on the arena."

"Of course, Ma'am." Brador did as instructed, grabbing his greatsword from his back. Many stared at it, wondering what it could possibly due. It's design couldn't really allow for transformation, though it's not like that had stopped people before.

"The match will end when one of the combatants reaches an aura level below fifteen percent. You may go on my call. Miss Schnee, are you ready?" Glynda was met with a nod. "Brador, are you ready?"

"Indeed."

"Begin."

Almost as soon as the word left the professors lips, the heiress, with the help of a glyph, charged forward, rapier aimed at the undead's throat. With a quick side step, she continued moving forward with the help of a kick from the undead. Weiss turned around, glaring at the undead, who's face had a look of pure concentration. With a quick swipe of his blade black flames shot from the brazer like sword. A hush fell upon the crowd as they all stared intently upon the two fighters.

This time Brador charged forward while holding his engulfed sword above his head, swiping it down on Weiss, who swiftly dodged to the right. The flurry of attacks didn't end and the undead continued his swing to his right. Weiss stumbled at the attack and the sword's tip nicked her. With a growl, she took the initiative and jabbed forward, only for Myternaster to be stopped by his hand. He grabbed it? Weiss eyes went large, as she wasn't entirely sure how to deal with it. Many would rather protect their Aura from harm that risk such a move. Obviously the finely sharpened blade was affecting the undead's Aura as it was slowly creeping down.

"Can... can he do that?" Jaune asked.

"It's not necessarily against the rules. Whatever helps you win." Pyrrha replied.

With a heavy yank forward, Weiss jerked towards Brador as he headbutts her, causing her to flinch back and release her weapon. After realizing her mistake, she glances at her weapon. Myternaster was quickly tossed back to her. She gives Brador an odd look, even though his mood hadn't changed. A single roll forward brought back the heiress as a quick thrust of the greatsword was lurched towards her. She quickly uses a glyph to get behind the undead and strikes him across the back.

With a quick pivot, Brador essentially ignored the attack and used the momentum of the blade to strike Weiss across the face, taking a good chunk of her Aura. While Brador was still in the green, Weiss's Aura had reached yellow. She couldn't take another hard blow like that, she'd definitely lose then. With a new revived determination Weiss shot forward landing a good blow the Brador's stomach, earning some cheers from her team. After Weiss received a backhand, she quickly got around to his back and stabbed his calf.

Raged fueled Brador now, and all sense of honor had washed away. This felt good. To let go. Let whatever emotion you're feeling take control. It was almost as intoxicating as when his Aura was unlocked. Brador could feel a smile spread across his lips. The undead quickly turned around to punch Weiss, causing her to stagger. Brador grabbed her neck and raised her up. Her feet kicked at his legs, though it didn't really affect him. He quickly slammed her to the ground, causing the air from her lungs to be quickly sucked out. As Brador reeled up with weapon, Weiss could honestly say she was afraid. Not of dying, there were way to many people here to allow that to happen, and she also knew that Brador wouldn't take her life willingly. But the look he gave her. A look of anger, emptiness and pleasure was plastered on his face as he swung down his sword.

"Stop. That concludes the match. Brador is the victor." Glynda's voice cut through the silence like a knife. Everyone looked down at the pair and saw Brador's blade about an inch or two from Weiss's face. Brador had a look of confusion. He wasn't entirely sure how he won, he just remembered his vision fading. The proceeded to strap his blade to his back and offer Weiss a hand. Begrudgingly, she accepted. "Well fought you two. Brador, it appears your tactics are... destructive, yet effective. However be sure to watch your Aura, even with your strategies. Miss Schnee, always account for someone being reckless or haphazard. Never assume someone will just allow you to win, or even be honorable. When it comes to life and death, honor is never shown in battle. This concludes today's lesson. Classes are done for the day, do what you will." Glynda says as she watches her students leave.

"Well fought, Weiss. You gave a challenging battle." Brador can't help but notice she didn't reply as her Team walked out of the class. The only words spoken to him were from Cardin as he and his team walked by him to exit class.

"Freak."

* * *

 **So uh... hey guys. It's been... awhile. In all seriousness though, I apologize. It's been around a month sense I last posted, which is unacceptable. Every time I attempted to start writing, I just wasn't into it. This chapter is definitely one I'm not 100% proud of, so please, any criticism you may have, lay them on me. I'm honestly surprised to see the amount of people following and favoriting this story, even with only the first two chapters up. (Now three.) I thank you all for sticking with me, and I promise promise promise the next one will be up sooner. That about sums it up. Thank you all seriously for reading, you guys are the best.**

 **Garoorar:** Yeah I know. The first chapter has some nasty text walls, but we're all good now. I hope. Thanks for reading!

 **Zapper3000380:** I don't think you understand. its a decommissioned military cabin. As in everything was taken out. As in abandoned. Also, I don't think I ever stated he was joining Beacon.

 **Guest1:** Thanks for this review! I've got it all figured out bud, in my brain hole. Also the issue of coming back via bonfires will be discussed in an upcoming chapter. Thanks for the review!

 **Guest2:** You're hella awesome. Thanks for the kind words, thanks for reading!

 **Sneky:** I'm glad you enjoyed it. Sorry this one took so long to come out, won't happen again.

 **Alex Cusil:** Your wait is over! Thank you for the kind words, it's all the support that really makes me come back. Thanks for the review!


	4. Chapter 4

The next two days were odd, to say the least. While the Undead hadn't fought anyone in any of Mrs. Goodwitch's class, he also hadn't really had any contact with anyone as they seemed to avoid him like the abyss. He was given his own dorm until his "Home" was done being renovated. As Ozpin had put it, "Grimm activity has been spiking around there and I don't wish to endanger the renovators."

Fair enough, Brador thought, but throughout his days here he was finally realizing his situation. Now he was alone, the curse still gripped him, and every day was a struggle without some sort of human contact. Team RWBY and JNPR avoided him just as much as the others after his match with Weiss, so really his only form of communication had been severed.

Being Undead wasn't something he expected to happen, nor was hollowing. In places like Lothric, people almost always had some sort of contingency. As for Brador, even if he had a plan, all of that would've been completely wiped out when he arrived in Remnant. This place was so different from his home, and that's what ate at him.

After a few minutes of just laying on his bed in a room clearly meant for more than a single person, he got up and slipped on his uniform. Brador opened the door and walked to his first class with Professor Port. To be quite honest, he wasn't sure what the class was about. He seemed to always start a lesson but somehow end up telling some ridiculous story. Brador always paid attention though, while many others took it as their chance to get some extra sleep. The man wasn't lying, that was for sure. The Undead could tell that above all. Despite his loud, boisterous attitude was a man of many decorations.

Soon after a little tangent he asks the class "Who where believes they have what it takes to become a TRUE huntsman?!" For some reason, this woke up the class. Brador was seated in the back of the class and he could see everyone from where he was, and he was at least a little shocked when he saw how little hands had been raised. They're all in a school to become a huntsman, shouldn't they all raise their hands? To be quite honest, Brador felt as if he shouldn't raise his hand. He wasn't going to be at this school forever, and although being a huntsman intrigued him, he doubted his life would take him their.

His inner dialogue was cutoff by Port's booming huzzah as he called on Weiss to demonstrate her skill. After a brief interlude she was dressed in her combat gear ready for battle. The Professor unleashed a Grimm that resembled a boar, A Boarbatusk, if Brador could recall. It immediately sped off out of its cage and went straight for Weiss. Brador wasn't really paying attention. In fact as of recently, he'd been extremely tired. After he got out of bed he felt refreshed, but throughout these two hours or so of being awake, he really just wanted to sleep.

Sleep wasn't really the word Brador would use though, perhaps more on the brink of comatose. His eyelids were heavy and his arms felt as if they were filled with the heaviest of iron. As the Undead tries to remember, he didn't get much sleep last night. With one final decision, Brador though it best just to let the slumber take him. Everyone else did, and with how much longer the class had, a little nap would hardly hurt anyone.

Brador's eyes fluttered open and he quickly realized he wasn't laying his head on the nicely varnished wood the desks at Beacon had been made of. He lifted his head from the rocky floor and sat up. The surrounding area was abysmal, no sign of life warmth. As he stood up, he heard a voice call to him. Brador couldn't move his legs, or rather they were moving on their own. He was being yanked towards the voice, the only movable part of his body being his head.

Whatever this voice was saying, Brador couldn't hear it. It was almost as if the person speaking was under water. After a few seconds of accepting this was going to happen, Brador began seeing things at the corner of his vision.

Little pale glowing orbs, which he assumed were eyes, stared at him. It was only a few, however he could see more begin to form. The eyes weren't exactly staring AT him, however, more likely they were staring through him, as if they wanted something behind him, or even inside.

Brador reached a complete drop off, and whatever light that existed in this cavern was being swallowed by this chasm. The Undead felt his knees being forced to the ground, though it was as if his own body was fighting against itself. One half was yanking him away, trying to escape whatever would happen and the other locking him in place in front of the crater.

The former knight managed to look behind him to see the eyes and the creatures they belonged to coming from behind him. When they finally arrived, they didn't seem to really do anything. This things were manifestations of Humanity, and were almost adorable looking, however given the situation they most certainly weren't.

Brador figured out the voice was coming from the hole, and now began to rumble the cavern. In one swift motion a wave of nausea waved over the Undead. It felt like the air was being removed from his lungs as his hands were formed in front of him. On all fours now, he felt even worse. Something was being taken from him,

His eyes widened as he say a small orb of abyssal power was escaping from his mouth. The realization hit the Undead. His Humanity was being taken from him. With whatever strength he certainly didn't have he tried fighting back, fruitlessly of course. As the last sliver of his soul escaping from his mouth, it floating in front of him, just above the chasm. It said nothing, but slowly dropped down into the hole.

When Brador could no longer see his humanity the force that was keeping him pinned released him all at once. To weak to stand, he looked at his hands. No more the gruff callused ones he'd grown to love, but now mangled at quite putrid looking. His body now looked as if the first few layers of skin were removed. The word he would use would be 'meaty'.

However, Brador didn't care. If he was to be honest, it felt pretty damn good. He lay there, looking towards the ceiling, stalactites jutting down from the dark. He closed his eyes, feeling content. Brador got up from his resting place and walked in the opposite direction of the dark chasm. He walked forward, dragging his feet across the floor. He hadn't thought of were he was going just that he felt he should be going somewhere.

After a few steps the Undead tripped and fell face first on the dank floor. As Brador closed his eyes, he finally heard the voice clearly.

"Fear not the Dark, my friend. And let the Feast begin."

The bell shot the Undead awake, his eyes wild and dilated. He tried all he could to catch his breath, and stood slowly from his chair. Everyone was already leaving Port's class. Brador just followed them out, at this point he just wanted to go back to his room. Luckily it was time for lunch, so at least he didn't have to think.

As Brador sat down, alone of course, he began chowing down on the daily special, which is just soup. To be fair, though, the soup was excellent and much better than any sort he would have had back in Lothric. Carrots, onions, potatoes and chicken. Yum! Once the undead was done with his meal, he got up to throw away his trash. Brador scratched his beard, completely oblivious to the perfectly placed foot in front of his path.

In a matter of seconds the Undead was on his stomach, food remnant, trash, and a tray had been strewn about. Laughter erupted throughout the cafeteria. 'Good,' thought Brador, 'I need to let of some steam.'

Brador knew who it was, because it was right above him with his lackeys backing him up. "Hey bud, nice fall there!" Cardin exclaimed, his team laughing almost immediately after. Goodness, had they rehearsed this?

"I'll give a few seconds to apologize, I knew you'll need the extra time to figure out how to use words that have more than four letters in them." Brador replied, folding his arms, dusting off his blazer.

After Brador's comment, the laughter was no off of him and aimed towards Cardin. "What did you say? I just ordered you're own coffin, punk." Cardin recoiled a little bit after his little threat when he saw Brador grin. The undead turned around and pushed a table back giving the duel its much needed room. The cafeteria fell into a hush as people began backing up. "Let's show this punk who he's messing with guys." Cardin said as he went for the cheap shot, aiming at the back of Brador's head. With a quick side step the red head missed completely. The Undead grabbed the offending fist and used the momentum of the hulking boy attached to it to drop him to his back with a flip.

The air in Cardin's lungs were quickly exhaled when he hit the tile, while Brador anticipated the other attack from one of the team members and launched his elbow back with the blow landing directly into the boy with gray hair's nose. The poor boy never saw it coming and flipped upside down, the back of his head hitting the floor.

The the last two members of the team charged for Brador who rolled to the side then tackles the chubbier of the two. After striking his left cheek with his fist repeatedly, the Undead was kicked off by the other boy.

"We shouldn't just be standing here, we need a teacher of something." Ruby said, both her team and JNPR getting front row seats to the carnage.

"Are you kidding? This is amazing!" Nora said amid the noise of other students cheering.

"But this isn't allowed! Fighting is strictly for the sparring room or during Miss Goodwitch's class!" Ruby argued.

"I have to agree with Nora here Rubles, Team CRDL is getting exactly what they deserve. I bet even Jaune want's some second hand payback." Everyone looked at Jaune waiting for his response.

"Yeah kind of..." You could hear the guilt in his voice, but only a little. The teens stopped arguing as they realized no one was willing to leave or break it up themselves.

At this point, Cardin and Sky had recovered but not in time to save their friends from a beat down. Sky was easy to put back down again, not much of a fighter, this one. This just left Cardin and Brador. While the undead was significantly shorter than the red head, that only seemed to work against the brute. Each punch had no thought in it, just pure force. Granted, if one of those hits connected it would be hell to shake off, but Brador was doing an excellent job of staying out of reach.

With one little mistake leaving himself wide open, Brador throws all of his weight into tackling Cardin, bringing him to his back. The Undead pins his legs and grabs a fist full of his hair. Holding up his head, Brador brings his fist down on Cardin's face. With a small crack the red head's head hits the ground.

With another fist rearing back, Brador gets inches from his face until he hears a voice none to happy. "What is the meaning of this?!" Brador stays his hand and cocks his head to the side, seeing a very angry Goodwitch. The cafeteria is dead silent, the Undead himself hadn't moved, his fist still poised and ready for another strike.

"Uh... Ms Goodwitch?" A small voice squeaked from the large group of teens. The owner of the voice turned out to be Velvet Scarlatina, who seemed even more timid in front of the daunting professor.

"What is it Velvet?" Ms Goodwitch asked.

"None of this was his fault, team CRDL knocked him over. He was only defending himself, it just happened he was stronger than them..." The faunus messed with the hem of her skirt, obviously uncomfortable. The look on Glynda's face was hard to read. Anger, acceptance, and other non describable emotions crossed her face.

"Is this true?" The professor looked across the sea of children when asking the question. A lull of 'yes' came towards the teacher, who just nodded. At around this time team CRDL came too, Brador having moved off of Cardin. "You four boys, check into the the nurse's office, I'll be down to give you your punishment later."

"Punishment?! But he was the-" Cardin was stopped with nothing more than a sideways glare. This event was over and done with now, and it was clear she wanted nothing more to do with it.

"I would suggest everyone get ready for their next class." Ms. Goodwitch said, it was obvious not another word would be said. As the students dispersed to their regularly scheduled classes, Brador tried sneaking out in the sea of children. Stopped by a single riding crop, the Undead realized he wouldn't be leaving this unscathed.

The professor began walking away, a single finger signaling for him to follow. Stepping right on her heels, they both walked in silence until reaching Ozpin's elevator. Brador alone stepped in as Glynda moved forward to push the singular button. Their eyes locked and Glynda's eyes alone could've killed even the strongest of Grimm.

When he reached the top and as the doors slid open, Ozpin was was mindlessly doing... whatever it is he does. Brador helped himself to the seat in front of him.

"Well Mr. Brador, as you know a few days ago I informed you that a Grimm attack happened around your next form of residence. Well, Mrs. Goodwitch dispatched off them yesterday and I just wanted to inform you that by tomorrow you new housing should be all set for you to inhabit."

"This is great news! However, may I ask as to why Mrs. Goodwitch took it upon herself to clear out the Grimm herself?" Brador asks.

"Well as she put it, 'He's all the students talk about, and he causes quite a disturbance.' And if I'm to be honest Brador, she isn't wrong." All the Headmaster did was twist his computer around to show the Undead his previous tussle with Team CRDL. "I won't ask, Mr. Brador. I saw the whole thing, but I think you could agree that you're presence at this school is becoming... increasingly difficult. Besides, I'm sure you're more than pleased to finally rid yourself of school, hm?" Ozpin took a quick sip of his coffee and set it back down.

"Now, I suppose by the time you go to bed, ready your belongings and reach the docks everything will be set. I've instructed Team CVFY to escort you to your housing, as they should be well equipped to deal with any threat there should be, as capable. I'm sure, you are. Safety in numbers and all that." With another long slurp of his black beverage, he gives Brador the okay to leave.

With a few steps back towards the elevator, Brador steps back in. With a slow button press, the doors closed on Ozpin's office. Only one destination, his bed.

* * *

 **So uh... Hey guys. Look I won't try to pull the wool over your eyes and say that I had so much on my plate because that certainly isn't the case. It's laziness and all around not feeling motivated. However a friend of mine read this story and she really liked it, and essentially forced me to continue writing, so good for all of us! Also, she going to be doing some art for the story so stay tuned for that! Anyways, I can't promise a set schedule, but it shouldn't be the near seven months it actually was.**

 **Guest:** I'm glad you're enjoying it! And I highly recommend Dark Souls, some of the finest games out there! And don't worry your pretty little head, headgear is to come.

 **TheGrammarNaziIsHere:** Y'know I was wondering about this myself, and I think I'll change it to be honest, especially considering this won't exactly have E rated language. Also it's just a little tacky to have that in the summary.

 **Shadowolf:** I hope this chapter was to your liking then! (BTW Dancer isn't as hard as everyone says)

 **SilentXD7:** I'm really glad you think so, it's people who show genuine interest that keeps the fire full of wood.

 **Guest:** Well here's the fucking update then, yeah? Haha, but I love the passion you have, so here we are.

 **themaskedswordsman:** Well 'soon' isn't the word I'd use. Again, sorry for that. But I hope this chapter is to your liking.


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